


Resigned to These Histories (We Exist)

by journaliar



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:17:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/journaliar/pseuds/journaliar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  “I was in the neighborhood?” Myka offers, glancing over her shoulder at the lumbering SUV parked against the curb before turning back to face Helena. “If a four hour drive counts as being in the neighborhood.”   Instinct fix-it fic/ slight au.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resigned to These Histories (We Exist)

**Author's Note:**

> I won’t lie, this story is a labor of love. I’ve been working on it since the episode aired and   
> have strong, intense and probably inappropriate feelings invested in it. So don’t be afraid to comment or anything, good or bad.

1.

 

“You don’t even like coffee.”

Helena shuts the front door behind herself absently, her quest to retrieve the mail adjourned at the sight of Myka Bering standing on the walkway in front of the house. Myka shifts awkwardly, hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans and a pair of sunglasses covering her eyes from the bright sun. 

She looks out of place here, same as she did a year and a half ago, appearing on the doorstep and asking for help. Too powerful and too commanding in this suburbia that offers so little. But Helena’s body, muscles and tendons, recognizes Myka’s life force and her body is drawn forward towards the edge of the porch until she can assemble the vigor to straighten her spine and dig in her heels to battle that influence.

“Myka,” Helena’s lips curve upwards at the taste of her name in her mouth, amusement and disbelief coloring her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood?” Myka offers, glancing over her shoulder at the lumbering SUV parked against the curb before turning back to face Helena. “If a four hour drive counts as being in the neighborhood.”

Affection, hidden but not forgotten, easily rises to fill her chest as Helena stares at Myka on the sun drenched sidewalk from under the shaded cover of the porch. Helena lets herself feel it settle warmly between her ribs but she also reminds herself sensation is undeserved. She remembers the weight of the gun in her palm and how Myka had leaned into the biting pressure of the muzzle between her eyes so trustingly. 

Helena has wanted many things and has gotten very few of them. Some things she never will and some things she never should but right now, more than anything, more than what’s standing right in front of her, she wants to stop being so destructive. She has a penchant for tearing things down and ripping people apart and somehow Myka, beautiful Myka, has become her most treasured target. She doesn’t want it to be that way anymore.

“Myka, you’re being-” Helena starts, rolling her shoulders back and stabilizing herself because she knows that if she lets her focus falter she will succumb to Myka’s pull and be lost in her orbit.

“Don’t say ridiculous,” Myka interrupts, glancing down the street and Helena watches her right hand flutter to her chest, slipping beneath the collar of her tee shirt to rub against the ledge of her clavicle and Helena recognizes the nervous gesture. “Because I already feel stupid for coming here and I…I know that I should stay away but I can’t when I know where you are.”

Myka’s honesty jars Helena, rattling the things she’s attempting to forge in this house with this man and his child and Helena swallows as Myka looks back to her. Myka’s sincerity is seductive and alluring and Helena could let herself be ensnared by all of it so easily but she is very, very tired of hurting Myka. 

“Emily Lake enjoys coffee.” And Myka’s expression, so naked and raw, falters then closes off completely and Helena wonders if it would’ve been easier to simply strike Myka. Helena wraps her arms around herself because Myka will leave now and the only thing holding her together will be her own hands.

She struggles to breathe as Myka turns away but then she’s spinning back and stalking towards Helena, long legs devouring the space between the two of them until she’s is toeing the line between shadow and sun. She pushes her sunglasses up to her forehead and squints up at Helena in the bright rays, “You know, you think these things about yourself but they’re not true.”

And then she’s walking away, climbing into her vehicle and again Helena watches her go.

 

2.

 

“You are aware that what you’re doing is a punishable offence.” Myka glances upwards with a laugh, as if Helena is being truly ridiculous and Helena eyes the smooth canvas of her throat for a moment too long. 

Myka has always been beautiful but standing on Helena’s doorstep, hair loose and out of control and mouth a soft pink, Helena is reminded of their first meeting and an ache, recurring and sharp, begins anew.

“I mean,” Myka sighs, amusement and irritation at war on her features as her eyes find Helena’s. “I could go.”

Something Helena cannot name but with which she has become intimately familiar surges hot and frantic at Myka’s suggestion and she works to breathe through the feeling. Myka stares, challenges, with bright green eyes and Helena silently curses because Myka is aware of the parts of Helena that are still so soft for her. “Well, you’ve driven all this way."

“And you owe me coffee.” Myka points out and Helena rolls her eyes, gripping the door handle so tightly. It is wrong, to invite Myka into the house like this again. Myka represents endless wonder and infinite possibility and that wars with the eternal domesticity and ease that Helena has chosen to cloak herself in.

“Are you gonna let me in?” Myka wonders aloud and Helena pulls the door all the way open and knows she will regret this decision. 

She follows Myka into the house, watches as she takes in the blinding domesticity of the dwelling in ways she did not the first time she’d been here simply because Helena had insisted she accept it without acknowledgment.

“It’s nice.” Myka finally murmurs, wandering into the living room and she gravitates towards the mantel that houses photos of Nate and Adelaide and a woman whose ghost is still prevalent in this place.

“You absolutely abhor it.” Helena argues and Myka glances over to where Helena is standing nervously in her own space, Myka’s very presence displacing so many things Helena was sure of only moments, days, months before.

"That doesn't mean it's not nice." Myka shrugs and there's a picture of Helena with Nate and Helena winces when Myka picks it up, examining the faces with keen eyes that Helena has never been able to escape. She doesn't comment, only studies it for an agonizing heartbeat in which Helena wonders desperately what she sees, before putting it neatly back and turning those knowing eyes on Helena. "So, coffee?"

"Yes, of course." Helena breathes out, lungs freeing a breath that had been stagnant in her chest as she turns and heads for the kitchen with Myka lurking quietly behind her.

"Cream? Sugar?" Helena asks heading towards the coffee maker and Myka continues to watch and watch while Helena prepares the machine.

"You know how I like it." Myka says easily, watching Helena from beneath furrowed brows. Helena flushes, mortified by the heat crawling beneath her skin, and nods.

“So,” Myka starts brightly once Helena sets the mug in front of her, steam rising eagerly towards her face. “How’s work?”

And the absurdity of the question comes in the way its not absurd at all. It is a question used all the time to facilitate conversation and yet Helena feels embarrassed by it. Because she will have to speak about a job that in no way compares to endless wonder while Myka nods politely.

“Work is fine.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Work is fine.” Helena just murmurs again and Myka nods once before slouching back in her chair, bringing her cup to her lips for a moment. “And Nate and Adelaide?”

“They’re both doing lovely, thank you.” Helena whispers and feels guilty even though things are lovely and enjoyable and fine. “What of you? The legendary Warehouse agent? Regal me with tales of your adventures over the year.”

“Actually.” Myka starts, eyes dropping to her cup. “There wasn’t a whole lot of world saving this past year. Had to spend most of it saving myself.”

Something incredibly important within Helena’s chest twists hard and sharp and Helena feels her breath hitch at Myka’s words, at the look on Myka’s face as if she’s ashamed or embarrassed.

“What does that mean, exactly.”

“Helena, I-” 

And for the first time since Myka reappeared on her doorstep, strong and confident, she falters and Helena nearly drowns in the thickening atmosphere. She watches Myka’s throat work, like the words just won’t come, and her lips flutter upwards into an awful, broken smile.

“Myka.” Helena inhales sharply, jaw clenching tightly in the face of Myka’s crumbling façade. “Myka.”

“Helena, I’ve been ill.” Myka chokes out thickly but she’s still smiling in that terrible way that digs into Helena’s chest, between her ribs where she’s soft and vulnerable. “I…it was cancer.”

And Helena wants to scream.

Because Helena left Myka so she would stop hurting, because Myka doesn’t deserve this, because the universe is so terribly cruel.

She doesn’t scream though, throat too tight to allow noise or even air to escape and the coffee cup is suddenly burning her palm. Helena sets the cup down and stares at beautiful, tragic Myka who lifts a shoulder in a shrug and Helena wants to scream all over again.

“Was?” Helena manages instead, tugging at the necklace at her throat and Myka’s eyes flit to the gesture for a moment. “As in…”

“I’m okay, now.” Myka says easily and relief, so sudden its nearly dizzying, falls onto Helena. “It was rough, ya know? But Pete has been amazing and-and-”

“You didn’t tell me.” Helena blurts because if she’d known she would’ve gone to Myka. If someone had just informed her, she would have been there. Helena stands abruptly and Myka just watches from her chair, hands cupped around her mug.

“Why would Emily Lake care if I was dying?” She finally says and Helena feels it like a physical blow. She turns away from Myka, finds herself once again in front of the coffee maker, white knuckling the lip of the countertop because it is the only thing keeping her upright. 

Behind her Myka sets her cup down carefully, stands slowly and walks towards Helena who still flinches when Myka’s hand finds her shoulder. 

“Perhaps its time for you to go.” Helena chokes out as the hand drifts down and away. “Nate and Adelaide will be home shortly.”

“Sure.” Myka says quietly and Helena expects her to walk away at that but instead Myka steps up to her side and envelopes Helena’s rigid body in a hug. Tears sting Helena’s eyes but her body does not give and Myka doesn’t seem to expect it to. Instead she grips a handful of Helena’s hair to anchor her and presses a hard kiss to her temple. It rocks Helena on her feet and she looks at Myka as she’s released, tangled and knotted words rushing forward to be spoken, pleaded, whispered but before they can Myka just smiles and says. “I’ll see you later, Helena.”

Helena doesn’t move as she listens to Myka retrace their path through the house until the front door opens and closes.

 

3.

 

Helena lets herself think of Myka in a way she has not allowed herself in a very long time. Because the skin at Helena’s temple still burns with the pressure of Myka’s lips and her muscles still melt with the memory of Myka wrapped around her and her heart still aches with Myka’s stinging words but Myka has made it clear that she will no longer be ignored and Helena is paying attention with her very soul.

So Helena thinks and dreams and fantasizes until she is sitting at the kitchen table in the middle of the night, darkness offering a small amount of bravery as her phone glows cheerfully from the tabletop. She considers calling but even at the thought, words catch on the back of her tongue, so she lets her fingertips slide against the smooth screen, typing, deleting, typing again until she’s sending off a text message that simply reads-Coffee?

She doesn’t expect and answer. Not at this hour. Perhaps not at all. 

She is already in bed with Nate, surrounded by heavy blankets and arms leadened with sleep when her phone vibrates angrily at her. She reaches out to grab it from the nightstand, hesitating for just a moment to recognize the nervousness for what it is before reading the message from Myka with Nate’s arm heavy at her hips.

It’s only an address, a time and a date but Helena reads it over and over until her eyelids grow too heavy then she dreams of Myka weak and sickly.

Three weeks pass and Helena spends them anxiously. Nate doesn't notice but Adelaide does and Helena feigns normalcy with guilt draped heavily about her shoulders and the exact opposite being resurrected behind her ribs.

Their meeting is on a Wednesday. Adelaide is at school and Nate is at work and Helena is in the parking lot of a horrid franchise coffee shop gathering all the courage she can before stepping out of her car.

Helena breezes through the door and Myka is there, seated at the far table and so obviously waiting for her and Helena’s stomach flutters incessantly, warm and eager, at the sight. 

And Myka greets her with a smile Helena does not deserve. Her eyes are gossamer green and so very open that Helena is sure that with one misstep she could easily drown in what Myka is offering, sink like an anchor in the depths of her gaze.

"I’m glad you decided to come inside." Myka grins, lips curling and eyes flitting over Helena's face then body. She stands, tall and lean and beautiful and other patrons stare but Myka doesn't look away as Helena approaches.

"I knew you’d know I was out there." Helena laughs guiltily before sliding into her chair and Myka does the same with an amused breath.

"Yeah, well, I knew you’d know I knew." Myka says softly and there's joy about her features that Helena hasn't been witness to in a very long time, that she hasn't been the cause of for even longer, so she acquiesces with a tilt of her head and lets herself look at Myka.

"I’m here." Helena points out and when Myka looks at her the way that she is, Helena can’t think of another place she’d rather be.

Which is problematic because Helena shouldn’t be here at all, taunting and tempting herself with things she is no longer allowed to want and sure as hell not allowed to have.

“How’s Adelaide? And Nate?” Myka asks, beginning a dance that Helena has already tired of with its pleasantries and banality. 

“They’re well.” Helena says simply, glancing away from Myka as a waitress comes to their table and sets down two cups with steam clawing at the air. 

“You can talk to me about them, ya know? I’m not gonna, like...its not...” Myka huffs out a laugh, nodding at the waitress gratefully as the young women sets down the cups before walking away. Myka pulls one cup closer to herself and pushes the other towards Helena. “It’s tea. There’s, uhm, there’s milk too. This place kinda sucks but its the best they could do.” 

 

“Thank you, Myka.” Helena says, words dropping from her lips as she lifts the hot ceramic and tips scalding liquid into her mouth, letting it burn away the things she should not say but are nevertheless on the tip of her tongue. “But I’m not interested in mixing my current situation with anything having to do with the Warehouse.”

Myka doesn’t flinch but her crooked smile fades, eases away and leaves nothing behind as she looks down into her mug searchingly. “Then why am I here?”

“I just thought we could talk.” Helena murmurs, false cheer warping her features. Overcompensating for a half truth because Helena’s heart aches to be honest and her mouth yearns to relay the message but Helena’s mind is powerful and it will not lose battle to desires and wants. Not again.

“What do you want to talk about then?” Myka sighs, shoulders dropping under a weight of which Helena is positive she is the cause of. “My cancer? Since you don’t want to talk about the Warehouse, despite you being curious about it the last time we saw each other, or your family. And I guess that means you don’t want to know how anyone, how Claudia, is doing or anything so let me tell you about my cancer since we’re staying on safe topics.”

“Myka, I didn’t mean...” Helena tries, worry and guilt mixing and surging upwards coldly from her belly and Myka only stares, waiting for the rest of a sentence that Helena can’t finish. “I wasn’t...”

“It was ovarian cancer.” Myka bites out and the tone and force of her speech leave Helena no choice but to listen as Myka tells of her illness, of her treatment and hair loss and her body’s weakness and Pete. Helena swallows down a terrible mixture of anxiety and latent fear and ugly jealousy but Myka breathes out with a smile thats not for Helena at all and reminds Helena that she is in remission and Helena exhales too.

“I’m sorry.” Helena whispers, looking at Myka who is very much alive here and now. 

“Helena, I don’t need you to be sorry.” Myka sighs but it doesn’t change the guilt, icy and weighted, low in Helena’s abdomen. 

“I would’ve been there if I-I’d known.” Helena whispers, honesty swelling and breaking free suddenly and Myka just lifts a lazy shoulder and turns endlessly green eyes on Helena again. “If someone had...”

"I miss you." Myka says, quiet and sincere across from Helena in this terrible coffee house and Helena's heart gives a mighty thump in the face of Myka's honesty. "A lot. Pretty much all of the time. Pete says that I've got it bad for you and, for probably the first time ever, he's right about something."

And Helena, who is covered in lies, is once again captivated by this Myka and her candor. 

"I mean, I know you're happy here and everything but I'm...I miss you." She shrugs. “I hope that’s okay to say.”

“Myka.” Helena breathes out weakly, her mind spinning as Myka glances up at her.

“You don’t have to say it back.” She says quietly. I’m just trying this new honesty thing. You get a lot of time to think when you’re, ya know, dying and...I dunno. I’m tired of regretting things.”

Helena feels ashamed and Helena feels empty but Helena also feels as though she’s doing what must be done because Myka is better off without her. She has to be.

“Myka.” Helena says again because she can’t stay quiet and she can’t speak the words that feel as though they’d give anything to touch the air but Helena swallows and says her name once more.

“It’s okay, Helena.” Myka whispers, shaking her head and bringing her cup to her lips. Helena glances down at her own cup, her hands wrapped so tightly around it that all of the blood has fled her fingers and when she releases her grip, her palms flush pink and angry.

"You're hair has gotten so long. I like it very much" Helena whispers because its a truth she can bear to let go of without exposing her bright red insides. It's small and unimportant but it's honest and Myka smiles into her drink like Helena has just given her the world. 

"Yeah, this..." Myka shakes her head, touches her hair thoughtfully. "Legros de Rumigny’s comb. I really missed my hair, ya know...as shallow as that is, and Pete suggested it and I didn't want you to see me like...with incredibly short hair..."

"Myka, you're beautiful. No matter what, you're beautiful. " Helena swears, another truth slipping free and it's worth it to see the warm blush color Myka's cheeks.

“Thank you.” Myka says quietly, digesting words Helena has never dared to speak out loud. 

“Was there any side effects?” Helena wonders curiously, speaking through hot, nervous feelings and Myka laughs, eyes sliding towards the ceiling, caught in a memory. 

“Another person has to give up their hair.” Myka grins, eyes darting back to Helena’s suddenly. “Pete’s bald.” 

Helena is content with her new life, she needs to be, but that doesn’t mean she cannot ache for what she gave up for this contentment. 

Too soon, Myka is walking Helena to her car with the sun high and warm in the sky and Helena’s legs feel as though they’re made of cement.

“It seems as though our entire relationship is built on goodbyes and I know that that fact is entirely my doing.” Helena says suddenly, apologetically, stopping in front of her vehicle as more honesty frees itself from the cockles in her chest and Myka looks at her, arms folded over her chest and laughs. 

“Helena.” Myka says, glancing around the parking lot before dropping her arms and stepping boldly into Helena’s space. Helena breathes in sharply even though Myka is careful not to touch. “This is me saying hello.” 

And Myka’s unwavering gaze may as well be the muzzle of a gun pressed neatly between Helena’s eyes.

“Why am I here?” Myka whispers and Helena pulls a hand through her hair while her blood turns heavy and something pleading and desperate claws at the insides of Helena’s ribs..

“Because I am incredibly selfish.” Helena admits because that is what it comes down to and Myka, with eyes like swirling nebulas, smiles.

“Me too.” she says and Helena has time to take a breath before Myka steals it away with a kiss to the corner of her mouth. She pulls away a bit, lingers, nose brushing against Helena’s cheek and Helena lifts her hands to wrap around Myka’s arms where they rest loosely at her own sides, fingers curling around Myka’s slim wrists. Helena doesn’t push her away, doesn’t pull her closer but holds on helplessly nonetheless.

 

4.

 

“I’m just passing through.” Myka claims, drinking lukewarm coffee from a styrofoam cup while she watches Helena move around the lab. Helena attempts to feign normalcy, fumbles a pair of forceps and chuckles breathlessly at her failure. “It’s my nephew’s birthday.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to fly?” Helena questions, turning to peer through the shelves at Myka where she sits on a stool on the other side, hair wild and eyes bright. 

“Probably.” Myka shrugs, taking another swallow of coffee before wincing and Helena’s heart flutters at the sight of Myka in this space.Helena isn’t sure how she spent so long away from Myka but it feels like her body won't survive another separation and that terrifies her. “This is terrible, terrible coffee by the way.” 

“There’s creamer. You know, Nate takes his coffee approximately eighty percent french vanilla creamer.” Helena offers tentatively, eyes focused on a rack of test tubes for a moment before she finds Myka’s eyes peering at her curiously.

“ Yeah? More than a spoonful of sugar and i’m flirting with a diabetic coma.” Myka finally says and Helena laughs nervously, sound twisting and catching in her throat. “How is he, by the way?”

Helena fills the next hour with Nate and Adelaide and Myka sits and takes it like a challenge, like a gift, until she has to go, standing and cornering Helena against a table.

“Thank you.” Myka whispers and Helena nearly shatters a beaker in her gloved hand when Myka presses the same kiss to the corner of her mouth that has haunted Helena’s dreams for the last six weeks.

 

5.

 

Myka has always inspired something in Helena that she herself tends to forget she’s capable of until its sprouting inside of her, fresh and green and time has not changed that.

But that thing, that growing, burgeoning thing, is dangerous even as it roots itself in Helena’s chest in the most pleasurable way possible and just like that Helena is growing again. Thriving and living in a way that she hasn't in a long time. Growing too large, it feels, for the her self imposed cage.

Ideas, theories, plots, come quick and constant like bolts of lighting now and leave her to scribble them out on scraps of paper just to make room in her conscious and to keep track for exploration later. 

Curiosity settles into Helena’s palms once more, quick and restless and she finds herself taking things apart to explore their inner workings solely for the warm rush of pleasure to her brain when she has it all figured out before putting it back together better than before. 

"What's gotten into you?" Nate laughs warm and disbelieving when he comes home to find Helena showing Adelaide exactly how the washing machine works, pieces and parts scattered around where the two of them sit huddled together on the floor of the laundry room.

Helena is forced to realize how much she's hidden and suppressed and lied when her mind corrects that it's not what has gotten into her but what has been let out.

 

6.

 

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” Myka’s voice is foreign in the walls of this house but Helena is pleased to hear it even as she frowns down at Myka who is looking up at her from the couch with an awful bruise painted across her jaw and neck and her eyes glowing like embers.

She’d been waiting on the porch like a gift when Helena returned from dropping Adelaide at school, with a smile and broken blood vessels she wore like a medal,asking Helena if she had time for coffee.

“Regardless,” Helena sighs, wrapping a hand towel around the last bag of frozen peas and pressing it to purpling skin while Myka flinches at the cold. “It needs to be treated.”

“Fine.” Myka laughs, still gazing up at Helena as if she, herself, is a gift as well and Helena swallows and focuses on Myka’s injury and not the light in her eyes, bright and tempting.

“How did this happen, anyway?” Myka’s eyebrows raise, grinning at Helena even as she takes over holding the makeshift ice pack in place. Myka is loose and playful here today and Helena is helpless against her charm when she’s in such a mood. “Though, you’ve always been a bit clumsy.”

Myka gapes at Helena and Helena offers her most charismatic grin as she settles on the couch beside Myka. That alone makes Myka narrow her eyes even as her mouth reshapes into the prettiest smile. “Actually, it was a run in with Mr. Bruce Wilhelm’s speedo.”

“Should I even ask?” 

“Yesterday was my first day back in the field since my cancer went into remission.” Myka says quietly, mouth still twisted into a lopsided grin and she’s so happy that Helena has to lean in and press a hand to her skin, to feel her this way.The skin of her bicep is warm and soft beneath the pads of Helena’s fingers.

“That’s wonderful. Like riding a bicycle, I’m sure.” Helena murmurs and Myka laughs, pulling the frozen vegetables from her skin and placing it on the coffee table. Helena watches the movement, looks at the reminder of what the Warehouse is capable of in the bruise smeared across Myka’s face and in the smile tugging at her mouth.

“Something like that.” Myka smirks. 

“So, should I assume you and Pete were successful?” Helena asks and Myka laughs and nods.

“I mean, it was an easy retrieval, ya know, not counting the whole tumble down the stairs but still...Snagged, bagged and tagged.”

“Snagged, bagged and tagged.” Helena repeats, watching Myka sigh and lean into the corner of the couch. Helena breathes out, letting her fingertips drop from Myka’s arm to find the denim pulled tight over her knees. It should be an innocent touch but things between Helena and Myka have never been anything less than painfully complicated and that simple, innocent touch feels greedy and needy in Helena.

“Myka, how’re you here?” Helena asks and Myka is looking down where Helena’s hand is tracing patterns on her knee through her pants.

“We had a layover but our flight out got downed. So we’re taking a red-eye out tonight. I had a few hours so I figured I’d stop by.” She admits and Helena smiles even as Myka’s hand lifts to brush against her wrist, thumb slipping over the pounding of her pulse over and over. “I told Pete where I was going. He says hi.”

“He’s not concerned that I’ll seduce you with my treacherous ways?” Helena teases quietly and Myka sighs, fingers closing around Helena’s wrist pointedly.

“We know what you did, Helena.” She whispers and Helena inhales sharply as Myka pulls on her wrist until Helena has no choice but to ease closer. “I know what you did for us, in the other timeline and with the Astrolabe. You don’t have to be a martyr anymore, Helena. You’ve righted all of your wrongs. You’re one of the good guys.”

Helena wants to be this person that Myka thinks she is and she knows the best way to do this is to stay away from her because Helena is weak in the face of temptation and Helena knows that she is nothing more than a conduit for destruction. But...

But Myka is watching Helena as if she’s never burned her to nothing but ashes, as if she hasn’t been forced to rise like a phoenix from Helena’s debris. Myka’s fingers are burning their whorling prints into Helena’s flesh and something pathetic and fragile within Helena’s chest crumbles to dust just before she leans in and kisses Myka.

Helena has imagined this moment before. Dreamt of kissing Myka, brutal and violent until her blood filled Helena’s mouth while the world ended around them. This is and isn’t that and Helena is helpless against the contrast.

She expects the hands at her shoulders to push her away but they guide Helena closer instead until she’s leaning over Myka awkwardly even as her tongue licks deeply into Helena’s mouth. And its a rush of feeling, hot want and startling need, that is unstoppable now that the dam has been splintered apart.

“C’mere. Just...” Myka pleads breathlessly, tugging at Helena who doesn’t have the willpower to pull away now that she’s being offered what feels like the only thing she’s ever wanted. She falls onto Myka and Myka catches her easier than Helena expects.

There’s too much passion for competence, instead its Myka’s shaky hands pushing aside Helena’s clothing, half unbuttoned shirt hanging from her shoulder and fully undone slacks shoved down her hips until a hand is easing between her thighs and Helena is left to claw at the arm of the sofa at either side of Myka’s head.

Myka watches Helena with eyes like flames, one hand grasping Helena’s breast through the opening in her blouse and over the material of her bra, as if to make sure that Helena is paying attention. Like she wants Helena never to forget that it is Myka pressing so deeply inside of her, that it is Myka leaving her slack-jawed and desperate as sparks incinerate her nerve endings.

“Myka.” Helena gasps because she is paying attention and this feeling will be scorched into her soul for lifetimes to come until her life essence ceases to exist entirely. “Myka.”

Helena is burning alive, heat torching its way through muscle and wrapping around her spine like a serpent and Myka watches, breathless and wide-eyed, as she goes up in flames. 

Helena cries out, entire body shuddering towards Myka who murmurs her approval against Helena’s temple, shows her appreciation in soft, damp kisses to her throat that Helena feels like electricity. And then Myka is slipping out of her, slick fingers gripping at Helena’s side and in this moment, with Myka staring up at her like she would die without her, Helena feels everything she knew she could never rid herself.

Helena slips to her feet quietly, adjusting her pants and Myka sits up to watch her just as quietly, the hand, shining from Helena, clenched into a loose fist atop her knee where Helena cannot stop staring at it. And this could be over now, Helena could ask Myka to leave and Myka would go and they might be able to survive one another. But Helena is selfish and self-destructive and has always taken more than what she deserves so she extends her hand and pretends that Myka isn’t watching her like she is, actually, worthy of this.

Myka takes her hand trustingly and lets Helena guide her up the stairs to the bedroom she shares with Nate. Helena expects Myka to hesitate, to back down the stairs in the face of this deliberate act of betrayal but Myka only kisses her and swallows her moans hungrily.

Helena watches Myka undress unabashedly, smiling fondly at the blush creeping across her clavicle even as she discards her own clothing. Myka kisses her when there is only skin and bone between them and Helena urges them towards the bed.

Myka shuffles backwards on the mattress, tossing superfluous, expensive throw pillows out of her way as Helena crawls after her helplessly until Myka is stretched out, long and lean on the bed and Helena is eager to give her the world.

“You’re beautiful.” Myka says quietly, mouth turned up into a grin and skin flushed all the way down to her bare breast and Helena sighs, lying between Myka’s long legs that have parted so easily for her, pressing her mouth to Myka‘s heartbeat. “You’re so…”

“I don’t think I’ve wanted anything as desperately as I‘ve wanted you.” Helena whispers helplessly against soft skin before lifting up to kiss Myka again. It’s another truth that has somehow wrestled free.

“The feeling is mutual.” Myka whispers against Helena’s mouth and Helena had no idea how badly she wanted to hear that until it settles like a drug in her bloodstream.

She lets her mouth wander down Myka’s throat, over her breast and down her stomach before settling between her thighs. 

“Helena. Please.” Myka whispers, begging to be ruined and so Helena touches, greedy and reverent as her fingertips slip over swollen, slick flesh and pillows her head against a tense thigh. She lets her fingers wander, pressing and circling while Myka’s fingers claw at the bedding in the edge of her vision.

Helena wants to savor this but Myka’s body seems to have other plans and Helena glances up as a shaky hand wanders into her hair.

“Are you nearly there?” Helena asks, gazing up the length of Myka’s body and Myka manages a nod even as her spine curves against the tension Helena is inspiring with only the pad of her fingers. “Tell me.”

And the hand in Helena’s hair becomes a fist, hips lifting and Myka’s green eyes focus on her as she whispers. “You’re going to make me come.”

Helena shudders, pelvis pushing into the mattress ineffectually even as she presses dizzyingly slow circles against Myka’s clitoris with her thumb and two fingers slip inside. Myka tightens sweetly, swears and Helena bites at her thigh and watches herself disappear inside of Myka.

Helena kisses her skin, the lines of her pelvis as self control thins and evaporates. Helena has always wanted all that Myka had to offer, everything else left behind too and now is no different. 

Myka makes a soft, surprised sound when Helena’s gives in and allows herself to press her mouth against wet flesh and Myka’s thighs tremble and fight to stay open. Helena only licks once, twice and then Myka is rolling upwards into the heat of her mouth with a harsh, broken sound that drags all the way down Helena’s spine as she succumbs to orgasm. 

Helena laughs when Myka jerks away breathlessly from her relentless touch and Helena realizes that she is happy in this moment. Happier than she’s been for what very well may be over a century and she lets the realization settle over as she slips up Myka’s body, spent and glorious in the bed that Helena shares with another. 

Suddenly, Helena feels guilty in that moment too, for what she’s doing to Nate but somehow, even more so, for the ways she corrupts Myka.

“Don’t.” Myka breathes and Helena closes her eyes while Myka flips them over so she can settle against Helena’s thigh, before sliding forward until they’re pressed together intimately and Helena’s nails bite into Myka’s hips . “Don‘t do that yet.”

Lips move against Helena’s throat, her jaw, mouth dropping hot against her breast and Helena reaches blindly to cup Myka’s head gently even as her hips lift searchingly and the leg not pinned beneath Myka‘s weight is curled snugly against her hip.

Helena wishes that this could be entirely physical. That they could fuck their way out of this broken, destructive connection but Myka is mouthing lovingly at her jaw and cradling her breast with one hand while her hips work to give Helena exactly what she needs. And they are making love and Helena is drowning in an excruciating orgasm that steals her breath and Myka follows her down with a tight exhalation, offering Helena her own dying breath.

She clings to Myka for long time afterward. Spent and exhausted and in a moment she’d convinced herself she didn’t belong in but Myka is kissing her shoulder while Helena traces down her sweat slicked spine and Helena wonders if she was truly meant to be anywhere else but here.

“I love you.” Helena whispers suddenly, more honesty, too much honesty, flooding free and Myka hesitates, lifting her head and meeting Helena’s gaze tentatively. She shouldn’t have said it, shouldn’t be feeling it, should just leave Myka Bering to live her life but instead there’s this. Helena’s never been able to control herself around Myka, stealing things from her that she doesn’t deserve. “I love you.”

Time and space has not changed that. Helena realizes it never will.

“Then come back with me.” Myka says quietly as Helena skims her fingertips over the hard lines of Myka’s ribs, feeling her bone flex with each breath she takes. “The Warehouse is your home, Helena. I can be your home too.”

Helena wants nothing more.

Helena has also destroyed every home she’s had, sometimes quite literally, sometimes in the quiet way she’s currently ripping apart the one she’s built with Nate and Adelaide with Myka’s taste in her mouth and love in her chest. 

“Myka, I...” Helena tries but she doesn’t know how to say that she’s still so sorry and still so guilty and still so tired of hurting her.

“Okay, Helena.” Myka sighs, disappointment clouding her words and making them dense as she rolls away from Helena until they’re side by side on the bed. And Helena thinks, this is it. That she’s finally disappointed Myka enough to keep her safe from the wreckage that Helena is destined to make of her but Myka’s hand reaches across the narrow space to grasps Helena’s tightly. “Okay.”

Later, after Helena has spent every moment available memorizing the taste of Myka’s straining muscles as she comes and the feel of her body surrendering to Helena’s, Myka dresses while Helena strips the bed in only her underwear.

“Perhaps next time we’ll make it to the coffee.” Helena offers, eyeing the ugly bruise shadowing Myka’s jaw and the numerous others littered across her throat that are Helena’s doing and somehow brighter and uglier before pulling the blanket from the bed. 

“Helena, I’m not...” Myka starts, tucking in her blouse, hesitating and turning endless green eyes on Helena and that is enough to stop Helena in the middle of removing the sheets. “I’ve never fought for someone before. I mean, even with Sam I just waited for him to come to me even though I wanted him so badly. But I swore to myself...I swore to Pete that I wouldn’t waste anymore time, that I would fight for you. And I did. I have. And you’re not...I thought that we were on the same page after this but-but we’re not even in the same book.”

Helena lurches forward thoughtlessly at the words, body reaching out for Myka independently of her mind as Myka speaks the words from Helena’s dreams, of her nightmares. “Myka.”

“I think...I think I’ve made my intentions very clear. I want you to come home, Helena. With me.” Myka says lowly, pinning Helena under her gaze. “And you want to stay here. And-and thats okay. If you’re happy here then thats okay but I won't...”

Helena wants to argue that its less about want and more about necessity. Yes, she’s come to adore Adelaide and Nate but Helena loves Myka, loves the Warehouse and Helena needs Myka to realize that she has a history of hurting the things she loves.

`“I know you’re scared Helena, that you think that you’re some villain but you’re not. You’re not.” Myka whispers. 

“Myka, I did not want to feel this for you. I came to this time with my mind fractured and intent on ending the world. Then there was you, powerful and lovely and like what I’d known was possible, and I wanted to end you too. I nearly succeeded at both and I refuse to allow that to happen-”

“Helena, come home with me.” Myks pleads and Helena swallows, thinks of Myka with a muzzle of a gun pressed between sad green eyes.

“You told me to make my home here.” Helena croaks pathetically and Myka laughs sadly, shakes her head. Helena sits on the naked mattress, a flat sheet half folded in her hands while nausea swells high in her chest. Helena wanted Myka to leave, to show some sort of self preservation and now that she has Helena is sure she’s the one who won’t survive.

“ I just wanted you to be happy. I still do.” She admits and Helena can only stare helpless and hopeless. “Please, don’t look at me like that.”

“Myka, just...” Helena bites out sharply, shaking her head, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Just stay a moment longer.”

“I can’t.” Myka sighs wetly and Helena feels her chest seize even as she sweeps her hair out of her face and attempts to breathe through the tightness. “You’ve got to go pick up Adelaide from school and Pete and I have to get back to the warehouse.”

Then Myka is kissing her, soft and meaningful and a sob rattles its way up Helena’s throat because this time Myka’s mouth against hers tastes like goodbye. 

 

7.

 

“What can I do?” Nate asks quietly, curled behind her on the bed that has been tainted by Helena’s lack of control and Helena’s love and Helena only stares into the darkness and breathes evenly.

She is on the verge of snapping, toeing the line of control like she hasn’t since it was only Myka and herself and the power to end the world in her hands. Helena is not sure what will happen, how she will lash out if she loses her fragile grasp on control but she knows it will be hideous. 

“What can I do for you, Emily?” Nate repeats against the nape of her neck, so innocent and caring and Helena knows there’s nothing that he can salvage because Emily Lake is not real and there’s nothing he can offer Helena Wells.

She fists the blankets and feigns sleep.

 

8.

 

Helena fully expects Pete to show up on her doorstep to rage and seethe and Helena would bask in his anger, take it in and keep it where it is most deserved. Because Myka is his soul mate, his kindred spirit and Helena is more than familiar with the ways fear can take on the ugliest shapes. 

She has seen glimpses of it in Pete before, righteous anger blossoming behind Myka’s soft words and wet eyes and she expects now the full force of such emotion would be scalding.

It’s not Pete, hot and blistering on her doorstep in the dead of night though but Artie, cloaked in an oversized coat and a furrowed brow. 

“Emily, do you know this guy?” Nate wonders as Helena edges around him to step in the space between him and Artie on the porch.

“Yes, he is a consultant on my case.” She lies quick and easy, words fluttering from her lips effortlessly and Nate hesitates for just a moment before squeezing her shoulder and disappearing inside the house. The streetlights flicker with a noisy buzz, casting garish shadows across the yard, Artie’s shoulder, Helena’s face.

“Emily Lake?” Artie questions after Nate walks back inside and Helena rolls her eyes, suddenly embarrassed.

“What’re you doing here?” She hisses instead, already defensive and Artie only looks at her with a mixture of pity and irritation.

“The real question is what’re you doing here?” Artie sighs and Helena is not fond of the tone he takes, wilting and sympathetic. “What’re you doing here?”

“Having a life.” Helena insists, ignoring the longing seeing Artie inspires. “Not hurting anyone.”

Artie laughs harshly, “Now, we both know thats not true.”

“What are you doing here?” Helena demands, glancing over her shoulder at the closed door.

“The Warehouse is where you belong, Helena.” Artie says and Helena stiffens her spine against the jolt his words cause. “It’s time for you to return.”

“No.” Helena bites out because she wants nothing more and Helena knows there are things that she does not deserve. “No. I have something here. Something nice.”

“What you have here is a manufactured life, but lets be honest, it‘s just an elaborate lie. Nothing more.” Artie accuses and Helena folds her arms over her belly, wincing at the sickening twist of remorse in her abdomen. “You are HG Wells. One of the greatest minds to ever live and you are playing house in suburbia because you are terrified.”

“Have you not seen what I am capable of?!” Helena demands sharply, arms falling and hands fisting in the darkness. “Have you not borne witness to my utter malevolence? It was not that long ago that I attempted to annihilate the world, the Warehouse…your Myka.”

The words are foul on Helena’s tongue as they rise from the darkened pit within chest but she delivers them nonetheless and Artie remains stoic in the face of Helena’s self loathing. “And yet the world continues to turn, the warehouse stands and Myka is fine.”

“I am evil!” Helena cries, voice rising and breaking like glass around them. 

“You are gutless!” Artie bites out harshly, voice thunderous, stalking forward a step but Helena only stares at him through the wetness smearing her vision while her heart thumps quickly in her chest. “What I have seen is a woman pull herself from the brink of madness and what I’ve seen is a woman sacrifice herself over and over for the things and people she loves. But right now, all I see is a coward.”

Helena can’t hide the trembling in her arms and legs because it feels like Artie has reached his hands into her chest, curled his fingers around her ribs and pulled and now all the important parts of her are strewn, red and awful, on the finished wood of the porch.

“How is Myka?” Helena wheezes and Artie softens, shoulders relaxing even as he removes his glasses and cleans the lenses on his coat.

“Myka is…Myka.” Artie sighs, the sound leaving him drenched in affection as he replaces his glasses. “And Somehow a bigger pain in my ass than Pete.” 

“She can be very persistent.” Helena say weakly and Artie only offers a knowing shake of his head.

“It’s…obvious…that you and Myka share some sort of connection. The specifics of which, I don‘t want to know about.” Artie says lowly, clearing his throat awkwardly. “But the two of you deserve to be happy. Probably more than any other two people in the world.”

“You’re giving me your blessing?” Helena scoffs in disbelief and Artie frowns at her, adjusting his coat and pulling his car keys from his pocket.

“I’m telling you that your destiny isn’t here.” Artie sighs. “You’ve spent years perfecting this life but it doesn’t change who you are and what you are, it doesn‘t change your story or-or make it better. I’m telling you, HG, it’s time to kill your darlings. You spent more than a hundred years as a statue and you’re just as stagnate here as you were in the bronze sector. Let these people get on with their lives and you do the same because they have no idea that neither of you can be what the other needs but you do.”

The door swings open behind Helena then, spilling white light across the back of her shoulders.

“Everything okay here, Emily?” Nate questions from over Helena’s shoulder and Artie just smiles, pressing his glasses up on his nose and squinting as the bright light washes over him.

“I, uh, I was just leaving.” He waves and Helena watches him shuffle away into the darkness just as a heavy hand lands on her shoulder, nearly buckling her knees.

“You alright, Em?” Nate asks quietly, concerned and Helena licks her lips carefully, closing her eyes against the well of tears.

“No.” Helena murmurs, hand coming up to thumb the necklace at her throat. “No, I am not.”

 

9.

 

“You’re certain this is what you want?” 

Helena allows herself to glance out of the window one last time, catches sight of Adelaide watching from the doorway as the last of her things are placed in the trunk of the sedan. It hurts to look away but she does and reminds herself that the pain that she’s caused Nate and Adelaide is temporary and necessary.

“Agent Wells?” Mrs. Frederic inquires and its been an eternity since Helena has been referred to as such and familiarity flows warmly over her.

“It is.” Helena offers honestly and Mrs. Fredric nods, nearly smiling it seems as the driver shuts the trunk and returns to the front.

“Then let me be the first to welcome you back, agent.” She offers and Helena chuckles as the vehicle pulls away from the curb.

It hurts to leave but Helena is intimately familiar with pain and she know this is only superficial. It would’ve been worse had they gotten married, had they had a child and built a life on a foundation of lies that was bound to collapse. Now she’s nothing more than a blip in their life, will be forgotten eventually and sweet Adelaide will find a proper mother while Helena will continue to mourn her Christina.

“Do the others know of my imminent return?” Helena questions and Mrs. Fredric keeps her focus on the window as the life Helena created here passes by easily and excitement Helena is unfamiliar with buzzes under her skin.

“First things first, agent Wells. You have an appointment with someone.” She says cryptically and Helena frowns.

“Who?”

“Doctor Cho would like to meet with you.”

 

10.

 

Helena is in Univille for a little over four months but does not make contact with anyone except for who Mrs. Fredric allows.

She stays in a small cottage on the outskirts of the town with explicit instructions courtesy of the Regents to find herself again. Helena is certain that its easier asked than accomplished but there are countless empty journals and endless tools at her disposal and the itch in her palms, in her mind, returns with a vengeance. But instead of placating it with thoughts of Myka and juvenile tinkering, she builds and creates and writes and lets that itch bloom into the compulsion it is meant to be.

She’s also required to meet with Dr. Abigail Cho who calls Helena’s brain beautiful even as she picks it apart in the most unassuming ways. And its difficult but Helena lets her mind be opened up because she’s been closed off for so long, because it hurts but burns with pleasure like stretching a sore muscle. 

“What do you write about?” Abigail wonders and Helena blushes, heat rushing to her face and neck and she stops the quick, nearly desperate movement of her hand, fisting her pen. “I mean, clearly i’m familiar with your more infamous works but now. What do you write about now?”

“Science fiction.” Helena murmurs, looking up from the papers spread messily about the small dining room table. “Usually. I’ve just finished a short story with a character based on Adelaid. It’s quite brilliant if I may say so myself.”

“I’m sure.” Abigail smiles and Helena releases her grip on her pen, setting it down carefully. “ What are you working on now?”

And Helena has promised herself that she would let this woman help her, she would be open and honest no matter how naked or exposed it left her because she’s supposed to heal. In these months she’s gained a tiny voice in her skull that whispers that she will if she only tries.

“I’m writing to Myka.” Helena admits, blood coloring high in her cheeks and Abigail only continues smiling across the table, the tea Helena made for her cooling in front of her. “Love letters, I suppose, like some smitten teenager. Though, they’re infinitely superior to any ordinary amorous note.”

“I would imagine, considering the author.” Abigail points out and Helena laughs, leaning back in her chair and running both hands through her hair. “How will you get them to her?”

“I’m not sure if I even should attempt it. As you’re aware, I’m meant to stay away from the warehouse and its agents.” Helena sighs. “And I’m not even certain I want to give them to her.”

“Helena, we’ve talked about this. Your feelings are valid and expressing them won’t hurt anyone.” Abigail states easily before picking up her teacup and taking a sip.

“I told her I loved her once.” Helena admits quietly, looking down at the swirling, aching, words that have been made by her hand. “Blurted it out, really, and she didn’t say it back.”

“Did she have to?” Abigail challenges, setting down her cup and Helena thinks of Myka, of her trusting gaze and crooked grin and sighs.

“I suppose not.” Helena whispers because Helena can now accept that its love that makes Myka’s eyes so soft when they look at one another. “How is she? I dream of her so often these days.”

“You can ask her yourself. Probably give her those letters too if you don’t chicken out.” Abigail mutters and Helena is momentarily bewildered.

“But…”

“Helena, I’m clearing you to return to the Warehouse for light duty whenever you’re ready. The Regents are aware and have given their approval.” Abigail says and Helena exhales in disbelief because just like that Helena’s world has been restored.

“Are you certain?” Helena wonders and Abigail nods.

“I am. Are you?” 

 

11.

 

The bed and breakfast is as welcoming as its ever been.

Helena shakes the cold from her limbs, pulling off her jacket and hanging it carefully on the coat rack near the front door. The atmosphere is warm and soothing and Helena allows herself a moment to bask in it.

She’s not sure if Mrs. Fredric or Abigail had informed everyone of her return and save for a few anonymous notes addressed to Myka that Helena found the courage to drop in the mail, Helena has had no contact with anyone. Helena assumes that there would be far more fanfare, good or bad, had they known she was returning.

“Pete! We better be going to that place with the vegetarian pizza because…” Myka’s voice carries down the stairs faster than her feet and Helena turns to find herself subject to Myka’s attention.

Myka’s eyes never match. The irises different shades of the same color and Helena could write poetry about the green and yellow nebula in Myka’s right eye, could work forever to recreate the golden halo in her left but her work would always fail in comparison to the real thing. That probable failure is never more foreseeable than when Helena is standing under the gaze of Myka’s eyes, beautiful and mismatched.

“Helena? What’re you doing here? Is everything okay? Is Adelaide…” Myka trails off as she steps from the last step, jacket halfway on and eyes soft with confusion as she stands in front of Helena. And Helena remembers Myka rushing to save a child of which she only knew Helena’s love for. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine.” Helena whispers, watching Myka’s mouth lift absently in bewilderment, leather jacket still dangling from one arm. “I’ve left Nate and Adelaide.”

“Are you okay?” Myka questions tentatively and Helena is reminded so easily why she cares for Myka so.

“I am. There is someone who's job it is care for my mental health, your Abigail, and she has been doing a very good job. She's helped me come to accept that while I care for them and I always will.” Helena admits. “I cannot lie any longer. Not to them or myself or to you. I cannot live without the warehouse.”

And Myka exhales sharply, a crooked grin taking over her face and Helena mentally chastises herself for nearly forgetting exactly how endearing the lone dimple in left cheek is. “That’s….”

Helena smiles too, helpless in the face of Myka’s joy especially considering that she, herself, is the cause. “And I cannot live without you.”

“Helena.” Myka breathes, smile fading under Helena’s honesty.

“I am very sorry for hurting you and for leaving you…for being stubborn and stupid...” And there’s more to Helena’s apology. She’d practiced the words over and over in the eight days it took her to work up the courage to walk through the door but Myka just shakes her head.

“Helena, you don’t have to apologize anymore, okay?” Myka murmurs and Helena nods and lets the feeling of being hopelessly in love sink into her bones.

“Alright.” Helena murmurs as Myka slips her jacket on fully. “Alright.”

“You’ve been sending me letters.” She says and Helena blushes beneath the weight of accusation, a self-deprecating laugh escaping her. “They’re beautiful.”

“They’re childish.” Helena counters and Myka offers a sweet smile, as if Helena’s act of juvenile adoration was the most endearing thing she’d ever encountered.

“I’ve kept them all.” Myka reveals and Helena can’t swallow down the relieved exhalation that escapes, just looks at Myka who is watching her as if the countless, terrible things that Helena’s done don’t matter any longer.

“Myka, I-” Helena begins but her words are stifled when Pete enters the room. Helena is familiar with both his boyish energy and seething anger but now he is neither of those things.

“So, you’re back?” He asks and Helena looks at him, turns her shoulders to open towards him as he emerges fully from the living room and walks towards Helena. “For good?”

“Pete.” Myka begins quietly, arms folding around herself and a hand lifting nervously against the back of her neck. “Pete.”

“Are you?” He says, moving to inhabit the space between Helena and Myka. Helena acknowledges the way he is physically shielding Myka from her, stance wide and challenging.

“I am.” Helena confirms confidently and the thrill of the words makes her skin prickle.

“Are you sure?” Pete demands quietly, eyes hardened and serious in a way that Helena knows is not usual. “Because, I need you to be sure.”

And there is an unspoken threat in those words but there is also wordless pleading too and Helena nods in understanding. 

“I am positive.” Helena assures him, assures Myka who is standing quiet and on edge behind Pete’s shoulder and he only nods before glancing back at Myka. And Helena expects more questions and more pressure but Pete does not question her intents, does not challenge Helena’s motives, only smiles boyishly.

“You hear that?” He asks and the slow bloom of Myka’s smile causes the same thrill along Helena’s limbs as before. “The glorious return of HG Wells.”

He turns then, once more shielding Myka entirely from Helena and speaking in tones so low that Helena can’t decipher the words but there is comfort and strength lacing his voice.

Then he’s stepping out of the way, falling back and leaving Myka to Helena’s mercy once again but Helena stares at Myka and knows that she will not hurt her.

“Guys, are we ever gonna get outta here? I’m starving and…” Claudia comes thundering down the stairs but stops dead at the bottom step, eyes wide.

“Hello, Claudia.” 

And Helena is not sure what she expects or even deserves from this brilliant young woman but Helena is infinitely relieved when Claudia drops her head back in her own relief, chin tipping towards the heavens as she declares. “There is a god.”

She’s flinging herself at Helena then and Helena lets the enthusiasm impact her fully, embracing Claudia tightly while chastising herself for forgetting how truly special young Claudia Donovan is.

“Promise you’re staying?” Claudia mumbles against Helena’s shoulder and Helena has to sigh to ease the affection filling her chest. “Promise.”

“I swear it.” Helena pledges, meeting Myka’s divergent eyes over Claudia’s shoulder. Myka’s lips lift into a crooked grin even as Claudia releases her.

“Well the good news is you made it just in time for pizza and ice cream.” Claudia declares flitting away to high five Pete who is standing watch just a few feet away.

“Ice cream? It’s freezing out.” Helena declares, glancing at Myka who only shrugs and looks on in amusement.

“Whoa, there’s never a bad time for ice cream.” Pete declares, pulling his keys from his pocket and jangling them loudly. “Now lets go, we still gotta go pick up Jinksy from the Warehouse.

“Lets go!” Claudia declares and Helena doesn’t realize how closely together she and Myka have drifted until Myka steps back to allow Claudia access to the door.

“We’ll be right there.” Myka says and Claudia nods, giving a not so subtle thumbs up before opening the door and escaping into the bright, crisp afternoon.

Pete moves slower, enthusiasm giving way to care and he and Myka make deliberate eye contact as he passes. Myka nods and so does he and the gestures speak volumes because Pete gives her a passing squeeze before following out the open door.

“Welcome home.” Myka finally says, lips upturned and beautiful once they’re alone and Helena chuckles.

“I must admit that it feels heavenly to be back here. To be near you again.” Helena says quietly, swallowing and Myka remains stock still, letting Helena be the one to move closer for the first time in a very long while.

“I’m...I’m very happy right now.” Myka admits and Helena is sure her heart swells at Myka’s confession. 

“As am I. Truly so in longer than I can remember.”Myka inhales when Helena presses up against her lean form and Helena listens to her own heartbeat pound in her ears. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Myka whispers with a soft smile, hand lifting to touch Helena’s neck even as Helena presses up on her toes, lips brushing against the corner of Myka’s mouth. Myka turns into the gesture easily and Helena kisses her like the world is ending and beginning all over again.


End file.
